


Don't Ask, Don't Tell

by kim47



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Jackson being repressed, Light BDSM, Locker Room Sex, M/M, Romance, sub!Jackson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-06
Updated: 2012-11-06
Packaged: 2017-11-18 02:49:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/556042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kim47/pseuds/kim47
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Danny is observant, patient, and a little out of his depth and Jackson just doesn’t know how to ask for what he wants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Ask, Don't Tell

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [fleete](http://fleete.livejournal.com) for the beta ♥

Danny’s starting to go insane.

Which, given all the shit that’s gone down in Beacon Hills in the last few years, would not be that surprising. 

But this has nothing to do with werewolves or hunters or vampires, at least not in the general sense. It _does_ have to do with one particular werewolf.

Jackson.

He worked out the whole Jackson-is-a-werewolf thing about a year and a half ago. It’s hard not to when Jackson doesn’t do all that much to hide it, when he seems so pleased to be faster, stronger, _deadlier_ , than he’s ever been. Jackson’s never been able to resist showing off, and it’s baffling to Danny how the majority of people at school still seem to be blissfully unaware of the supernatural.

Danny’s known about werewolves in general since the middle of sophomore year, he’s not a dumbass. Scott and Stiles never really bothered to lower their voices, and it wasn’t hard to put two and two together and come up with an alarming conclusion. It explained everything, really, and his suspicions were confirmed when he caught a glimpse of Scott wolfing out at Jackson in the locker room.

But his current mild freak out has nothing to do with the fact that his best friend is a werewolf and has never bothered to tell him. It’s a more…personal problem.

The first time he noticed, he didn’t think much of it. It’s not unheard of: the aggression, the adrenaline of the game gets to you sometimes. It happens to all the guys at one point or another. So Jackson being hard after practice wasn’t really something noteworthy. 

Danny had never noticed it before, since he’s not in the habit of staring at his best friend’s junk, but it was hard not to when he was sitting on the bench and Jackson was leaning way, way over him to shove something in his locker. He couldn’t actually see anything _except_ Jackson’s crotch. 

So his situation was, ah, hard to miss.

"Really, man? You can’t go around?" he grumbled, grabbing Jackson by the waist and shoving him away. 

Jackson smirked at him, but he also stepped away quickly and turned to head for the showers. Danny couldn’t help but notice the flush on the back of his neck. 

And that was it. Or rather, if it had been, it wouldn’t have been a big deal, and Danny would never have thought about it again. 

Except it kept happening. And now he can’t help but notice, every single time. Jackson is _always_ hard after practice. 

It’s starting to fuck with Danny’s head.

His first instinct is to tease Jackson about it. Turned on in a room full of sweaty, half-naked dudes. Anything you want to share, buddy?

But he doesn’t.

Because a small part of him wonders if that really is the case. Maybe Jackson _is_ into guys. Maybe that _is_ why he’s so turned on after every practice. And if that’s true,  
teasing Jackson about it is way, way down on his list of things to do.

***

The thing is, when Danny says Jackson isn’t his type, he’s not lying. A quick look at his relationship history, however, will tell anyone that his type tends to end with him drunk at a club and Jackson telling him to stop dating asshats.

And Danny wonders, sometimes, if he is a little self-sabotaging when it comes to relationships, and if it has anything to do with the tightly-closed box in his mind labelled Things We Don’t Think About Jackson. 

It’s one thing to not be into your straight best friend; it’s common sense and a little self-preservation. And it doesn’t necessarily follow that if Jackson’s into guys, he’s into Danny. But Danny can’t stop the thought niggling at the back of his mind, the _what if_ , what if this were something he could actually have?

He’s so busy pondering the implications of all of it that he totally fails to listen to any of Coach’s pre-practice ramblings, only snapping out of it when he hears his name.

"Mahealani, you’re up."

Danny stares at him, confused. "What?"

Coach sighs and puts his hands on his hips, hanging his head like Danny’s gravely disappointed him.

"You’re up. We’re rotating the captain position around, I need a back-up if Princess over here hurts himself."

He waves his hand at Jackson, who scowls at him, but says nothing. 

"And if McCall over there flakes out on us," Coach adds thoughtfully.

"Hey Coach, if Danny doesn’t want to, I could - "

"Shut up, Stilinski."

Danny hears Stiles sink back onto the bench behind him. 

"So I’m…captaining today?" 

"Jesus, how many times do I have to explain this. _Yes_."

"Uh. Okay?" Danny’s never thought all that much about the idea of being captain, the position reserved for Jackson in his head, but he figures it can’t be all that difficult.

Jackson bumps into his shoulder as they head out onto the field. "Sure you’re up for it, man? Keeping these slackers in line? It’s not all just standing around looking pretty."

It sounds vaguely flirtatious, but now Danny can’t tell if he’s just reading too much into everything. So he rolls his eyes, says "Whatever," and heads out onto the pitch. 

_*_

Practice is exactly the same as ever, at first. Coach yells at them until they do what he tells them to, then yells some more when they fail to do as well as he thinks they should. Then, fifteen minutes in, Coach gets a phone call and shouts at Danny to take over as he tramps off and starts shouting at the person on the other end of the line.

He wasn’t actually expecting to have to do anything, but he’s kind of weirdly excited and nervous about being in charge, even though it’s just practice. He cups his hands around his mouth.

"Okay, line up, guys," he shouts. "Scott, you’re in goal."

Scott groans, but shuffles over to the goal and starts putting on the extra gear. The lacrosse team has improved to a basically unbeatable level, largely (okay, entirely) due to the presence of three people with superhuman speed and strength. Everyone else had to improve just to keep up. 

"Everyone else _line up_."

"Bossy," Jackson mutters, supposedly under his breath but definitely loud enough for Danny to hear. He grins when Danny glares at him. 

He’s surprised to find how much he enjoys it, standing there, watching, pointing out their mistakes, ordering them to go again. It’s pretty efficient, and not really different from any other practice. 

Until it’s Jackson’s turn. 

Jackson steps forward, catching the ball easily from Scott. Then he flings it about five feet wide of the goal, and laughs when Scott has to run after it.

"Really, Jackson?" he says, exasperated, and Jackson just holds up his hands defensively, faux-innocence pasted onto his face. 

"Do it again," Danny orders. 

Jackson takes the ball again, and does the exact same thing, except on the other side of the goal. And then proceeds to do it six more times.

"Alright, that’s enough.” He stomps over to Jackson, close enough that no one else can hear them, and pulls himself up to his full height.

"Jackson, go again," he says, putting as much steel in his voice as he can. "Do it right this time. I’m not going to ask you again."

Jackson’s eyes widen, almost like he’s actually a little scared, and he draws a sharp half-breath and steps back. Then his usual swagger slips back over him, and he drawls, "Yes, _Coach_ ," and turns back to face the goal. 

He shoots, on target this time, but weakly enough that Scott could probably have stopped it even without his heightened reflexes. Danny has no idea what the hell he’s playing at, but it’s pissing him off. 

"Jackson," he grits out, "if you don’t do it the right way, you’ll be on the bench for the rest of practice."

Jackson looks straight at him, and he hesitates for a second. Then he nods, dropping his eyes to the ball, and shoots. Perfectly. He’s using his extra strength, because he gets it past Scott where no one else had been able to.

"Good," Danny says, and turns to the next person. "Isaac, you’re up."

*

But then Jackson keeps doing it, slacking off, horsing around, and it’s so un-Jackson that it grates at Danny’s nerves. Does he hate the idea of anyone else captaining and is therefore trying to undermine Danny? Or is he just being an asshole for the sake of it?

It wouldn’t exactly be the first time.

Danny has to order him constantly to _do it right, Jackson_ , _stop dicking around, Jackson_ , and finally, harshly, _locker room, Jackson, you’re done for today_.

His last order is met with a glare, but Jackson doesn’t say anything, just turns and stomps over in the direction of the bleachers.

*

It’s Friday, so it doesn’t take long for the locker room to empty. Danny shoves his equipment in his locker but doesn’t bother changing. He’s not leaving until he talks to Jackson. Who’s in the shower, who’s been in the shower for fifteen minutes, which is long even by Jackson’s standards. Danny wonders if he’s avoiding him.

He leans back against the locker and sighs. There’s not really a good way to confront Jackson about anything; he gets defensive at the drop of a hat. Is it even worth bringing it up? 

This isn’t anything like Jackson normally behaves: he doesn’t clown around at practice, he doesn’t generally let people see him at anything less than his best. But who knows what bizarre shit is going on in Jackson’s head right now. Maybe there’s pack drama (it wouldn’t be the first time). Maybe something at home. Except he’d like to think that if it’s the latter, Jackson would have told him, and he’s pretty sure he could have worked it out if it were the former. 

Part of him just wants to grab his stuff and go, let Jackson deal with whatever is going on. But when it comes down to it, Danny’s sick of letting things fester, of not asking and Jackson not telling. It’s a stupid dance they’ve been doing for years now and he’s _tired_.

He stands up suddenly, set on confronting Jackson in the shower if he has to. At that exact moment, Jackson rounds the corner, towel around his waist. He falters, just for a second, when he sees Danny a couple of feet away from him, and Danny doesn’t miss the way his hand clutches a little tighter at his towel. Danny’s eyes narrow.

Jackson’s hesitation is only a moment though, and then his face smooths, and he saunters past Danny and heads for his locker.

"You still here, man?" he calls over his shoulder.

Danny rolls his eyes, even though Jackson won’t see it. "Obviously."

Jackson ignores him and starts getting dressed, and Danny lets his eyes drag over Jackson’s ass, over the cut of his shoulders, the water dripping down his neck. He suddenly wants to trace the paths of the droplets with his tongue.

It’s not something he often lets himself think. Fuck. He shakes his head.

"What the hell was that, today?" he demands. Jackson’s shoulders tighten, but he doesn’t turn around.

"What’re you talking about?"

"Today, on the field. The dicking around, the constantly pushing back at me. What was that?"

Jackson shrugs, then pulls his shirt over his head. "I don’t know what you’re talking about, Danny. I was just having some fun."

Except Jackson doesn’t. Jackson doesn’t have fun, not in front of people he wants to impress. Which is everyone. 

He moves without thinking, crossing the room until Jackson’s not five feet in front of him. 

"Jackson."

Jackson jumps, clearly startled, and turns to face him, frowning.

"What the hell, man? Why are you making this a big deal?"

"I’m not the one making this a big deal, you’re the one refusing to tell me what’s going on." 

He reaches out, intending to shove Jackson a little, but his palm lands on Jackson’s still-bare chest and his skin is _freezing_ , like he’s been standing under an ice-cold shower for fifteen minutes, and he snatches his hand back.

Danny can’t help it, his eyes drop to Jackson’s waist, and -

Yes. Jackson’s hard. 

He’s already standing so close, and Jackson isn’t pushing him away, and everything he was going to say fades from his mind. His eyes flick over Jackson’s face and get stuck on the tiny droplets clinging to his eyelashes. A thousand thoughts are clamouring for attention, but he can’t really hear a single one of them over the roaring of his pulse in his ears.

He steps closer, and Jackson steps back a fraction, his back against the locker, and looks up, straight into Danny’s eyes. 

"Danny." It’s nothing else, there’s no inflection to it, it’s just Danny’s name, and what is he supposed to do with that? Jackson’s hands come up, and he lays his palms flat on Danny’s chest, like he’s going to push him away. Except he doesn’t. 

It’s Danny’s turn to shudder, as Jackson moves his hands curiously, sliding them over his jersey and up to his shoulders, and it happens simultaneously: Jackson’s hands tighten and he pulls forward just as Danny leans in and then they’re kissing.

They’re _kissing_ , and Jackson’s mouth is open, his hands clutching almost too tight, like he’s afraid Danny’s going to pull away. Danny’s not sure he could if he wanted to, his mind hazy with the fact that he’s making out with his best friend in the locker room, the same friend he’s wanted forever and at the same time never really let himself want at all.

He pushes closer, hands sliding to Jackson’s hips and holding him back against the cold metal mesh, licking into his mouth and kissing him deeply, a little giddy with the fact that this is actually happening. He can feel Jackson’s hard dick against his hip, and he’s halfway there himself, pushing his thigh between Jackson’s and rocking them into each other.

They both groan, and Jackson drags his hands down Danny’s torso, sliding them underneath his jersey and over his skin.

"Can I?" Jackson asks, breathes into Danny’s mouth, almost pleading. His fingers are at Danny’s waistband, but he hasn’t touched him, hasn’t moved lower. He’s waiting for Danny to agree, as if Danny’s going to say _no, thanks, I’d rather you didn’t jerk me off_ , as if Danny can refuse him anything.

"Do it," he says, and Jackson sucks in a breath, fingers instantly scrambling at his waist. It takes him a moment to get his shorts untied, finally pushing them down past Danny’s hips and tugging his dick out of his jock strap. Jackson runs his fingers along the length of it, almost curiously, then curls his palm into a fist and starts stroking.

It’s patently obvious from his loose grip and the awkward angle that Jackson’s never touched another guy’s dick before. But it doesn’t take Danny long to get fully hard anyway. Because it’s _Jackson_ , gorgeous, arrogant Jackson, and Danny kisses him again, sucking on his tongue, thrusting into Jackson’s grip.

"Tighter," he pants out, "and faster."

Jackson obeys immediately, jacking him harder, so much better, and it’s not going to take Danny long, not with Jackson’s other hand in his hair and the way he’s gasping into Danny’s mouth like this is the hottest thing he’s ever done. 

He comes all over Jackson’s hand and his own shirt three minutes later, his fingers digging into Jackson’s back until it must hurt. And to his surprise, Jackson follows straight after, pushing against his leg twice, and then moaning loudly enough that Danny leans in to muffle the noise with his mouth. 

They both slump to the floor afterwards, breath slowing and heads clearing, the metal cold against their backs.

And now that it’s over, Danny’s definitely freaking out a bit. There’s no way of telling if Jackson’s going to flip out about this, if he’s going to shut down and shut Danny out. While their friendship has survived more than one catastrophe, Danny, in his panicked state, isn’t sure if it can survive this.

And he’s suddenly just as sure that he needs it to.

"Uh, Jackson?" he says, turning so he can see him properly, suddenly aware that he’s bare-assed on the fairly disgusting locker room floor. He tugs up his shorts and tucks himself in, trying desperately to calm his racing pulse. 

Jackson’s eyes are closed, and he’s breathing deeply, but when Danny reaches out hesitantly to touch his arm, he opens his eyes.

And grins.

*

"So."

Another shower, another hand job and _another_ shower later, they’re sitting on the bench in the locker room, thighs pressed against each other. 

"Told you I was your type," Jackson says, voice thick with amusement.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Jackson’s pretty and he knows it, and Danny’s never been one to stroke his ego. A little inflation seems inevitable now, unfortunately. 

They’re silent for a moment, but it’s not uncomfortable. 

"We’re…gonna do this again, right?" Jackson asks. His head is tilted back, the picture of nonchalance, and he doesn’t fool Danny for a second. 

"Do you want to?" Danny replies easily, as if his heart’s not suddenly pounding in his chest.

There’s silence again. Danny would fill it--he has things he wants to say--but he wants to hear what Jackson wants first. Jackson’s terrible at articulating, at asking for things, at seeming vulnerable in any way, and Danny thinks it’ll be good for him to try and voice what he’s thinking. Also he’d rather not go first.

"I guess." Jackson shrugs. So much for that.

"Look," Danny says, turning to him. Apparently the only way this conversation is going to happen is if Danny initiates it. "I don’t do casual."

Jackson snorts. "Sure you don’t." 

It’s a fair point.

"Okay, yes I do," he amends. "But I’m not doing that with you." He feels Jackson go tense against him. 

"Whatever, man," Jackson says, and he’s already up and slinging his bag over his shoulder, already halfway across the room, already leaving. Danny sighs and follows him.

"Jackson, stop."

Jackson does, instantly. Danny tugs him by the shoulder to turn and face him, stepping close so Jackson has to tilt his head back to look at him. 

"I meant I’m not going to do _casual_ , no strings attached. Doesn’t mean it has to be super serious, hearts and flowers and forever or whatever, but it has to be just us. You’re with me, you’re not with anyone else. Okay?"

For a second, Danny thinks maybe he got it wrong, maybe this isn’t what Jackson wants. Or that even if it is he’s going to blow Danny off anyway because he’s asking for too much. But then Jackson blinks, looks down, and nods. 

"Okay," he says.

"Good." Danny leans down and kisses him slowly. Jackson totally gives it up, dropping his bag to the floor and pulling Danny in by the waist. 

They end up needing another shower.

***

Things change strangely little.

They still eat lunch in the cafeteria with the same friends, still roughhouse at practice, still play video games until three in the morning. Still fight when Jackson tries to cheat off him, still laugh when Stiles makes an idiot out of himself in the hallway. 

He wondered, at first, whether Jackson would want to tell people, whether he’d be okay with being known to be dating a guy. It’s still not entirely clear what Jackson thinks on the subject of his sexuality.

Jackson cleared that up right on the first day, kissing Danny on the lips at his locker before heading off to class. It was a little more over the top than usual, a tiny bit like Jackson was trying to make a point (yeah, I’m with a guy now, anyone want to make something of it?), but Danny really wasn’t going to complain.

***

"Danny, what do you think of my new shirt?"

Stiles drops into the seat across from him and Scott sits down next to him. It’s been a while since he’s acted as a fount of information as regards the tastes of gay men for Stiles, and fuck if he hasn’t missed it a little.

"Really, Stiles? We’re still on this?" he says instead, crossing his arms.

Stiles holds up his hands. "Hey, I just wanted to know. I mean, I think it’s a perfectly fair - "

"Shut up, Stilinski." Jackson drops down on Danny’s other side, slinging his arm around the back of his chair. 

"Yeah, yeah, Jackson, I get it, you hate me, whatever." 

There’s always a weird kind of tension whenever Jackson and Scott are in each other’s vicinity. Something to do with their pack dynamics, Danny figures. Speaking of which, if Jackson doesn’t come clean about that in the near future, Danny’s going to force it out of him. 

For now, he leans over and kisses Jackson, nothing too over the top, but he takes a little bit of pleasure in hearing Stiles choke on his drink. When he pulls back, Stiles is staring at the two of them. His eyes narrow.

"When did _that_ happen?" 

"Two weeks ago," Scott says absently, eyes glued to his phone. Stiles rounds on him.

"And you didn’t _tell_ me?" Scott looks up, confused.

"I assumed you knew. He’s been smelling like Danny for ages. Everyone knows." 

Jackson snorts. "Fucking right they do," he says under his breath. 

"I didn’t even know you were…" Stiles forgoes the end of the sentence in favour of waving his hand vaguely around in Jackson’s direction. Jackson’s about to retort when another thought occurs to Stiles.

"So…you and Lydia?" he says, his voice unabashedly hopeful.

"Me and Lydia have been over for more than a year, moron." 

"So it’s like…for real, this time? Man, I always assumed the two of you were getting back together; she’s always dumping your ass for one thing or another."

Jackson’s leaning forward now, the muscle in his jaw working. He always gets antsy when people bring up him and Lydia. Danny puts his hand on his thigh and squeezes hard. Jackson sits back.

"Don’t bother with Lydia. She’s never going to give you the time of day."

"Says you."

"Says _her_."

"Can’t crush my hope, Jackson, my dark little rain cloud." Stiles stands up, lunch abandoned. "Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a lady to see." 

Scott trails after him, muttering something about telling Derek, and Danny isn’t touching that one with a ten-foot pole.

"They’re kind of exhausting," he comments. 

"You have no idea," Jackson mutters. He still looks tense and angry, and if it weren’t the middle of the day, Danny would take him home and get him off, just to get him to relax. Jackson is not fun to be around when he’s like this.

Actually…he only has one class left today, and no one will really care if he blows off one class, right? He turns to Jackson at the now-empty table.

"You wanna skip out on the afternoon and go to my place? My parents won’t be home til six."

"Fuck yes, I do."

"Thought so."

***

So things are good. Good enough that it takes Danny a little while to realize that something is just a little bit off. He couldn’t tell you why, or what it is, or anything specific. It’s just a vague, indefinable feeling.

It’s bugging the shit out of him.

Because everything should be perfect, or as perfect as things can get when you’re a high school senior. He’s on the lacrosse team, he gets good grades, his parents are great (not to mention they travel a lot for work, which is a serious bonus, and thinking that doesn’t make him heartless, okay, just a teenager), he’s popular and happy. He’s dating his best friend, and they’re having quite a lot of sex. Admittedly it’s mostly handjobs and the one time he blew Jackson in the showers after practice, but that doesn’t mean it hasn’t been amazing. 

But Danny still feels like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop.

***

"Danny, I have to tell you something."

It’s Saturday afternoon, and they’re attempting to study in Jackson’s room. Jackson’s leaning against the headboard of his bed, fingers twisting in the comforter, eyes on his knees. 

Danny shuts his computer and crawls up the bed until he’s sitting next to Jackson. "Okay?" 

He’s not worried, not really, but it’s hard to be completely calm. Is Jackson unhappy? Or maybe he’s noticed that things are weird sometimes, that there’s something between them that feels unsettled? 

Jackson takes a deep breath."Okay, look, it’s going to sound insane, and I know you’re not going to believe me, but I need to tell you this, probably should have mentioned it a while ago, but - "

It clicks.

"Oh my god, are you finally going to tell me you’re a werewolf?"

It’s nearly worth two years of being lied to for the look on Jackson’s face, the way his eyes widen and he starts so violently he almost falls off the bed.

" _What_?"

Danny stretches out his hand and pulls him back towards the center of the bed. 

"How dumb do you think I am?" he asks. "I worked it out ages ago. I’ve been waiting for you to finally come clean."

Jackson gapes at him. "B-but…why didn’t you say anything?"

Danny shrugs. "You didn’t seem to want to talk about it. I was going to, soon, if you didn’t say anything. You’re not all that subtle about it, to be honest. None of you are."

"But - "

"You think I haven’t noticed your extra speed? How strong you are when you’re not paying attention? You don’t really try and hide it. Not to mention how you’re always mysteriously busy on the full moon." 

"And you just…assumed? Werewolves were the first thing that came into your head?"

"Well it took a while to get my head around, but it’s not like I haven’t overheard Scott and Stiles having a million conversations about it."

Jackson stares at him.

"Oh, and I saw you and Scott getting into it once; it’s hard to ignore the evidence of Scott turning into one right in front of you," he adds helpfully. 

"You could’ve told me." Jackson sounds aggrieved, like this is somehow Danny’s fault. 

"Are you fucking kidding me? _You_ could have told _me_." He hasn’t really let himself be angry about this, it just hasn’t been worth it. But he can feel it bubbling up now, the irritation at being lied to, the anger that Jackson had been keeping something so important back. His good humour evaporates. 

"I’m sorry," Jackson says eventually. "I thought - it was dangerous, you know? These things are fucking insane. I didn’t want you to get mixed up in it."

Danny buys it, to a point. He’s worked out the times Jackson was protecting him, the times he was trying to keep Danny as far away from all of it as he could. 

"Was that all it was?" he demands. 

"No," Jackson says eventually. "In the beginning…I just didn’t think about it. It was just about me, okay? I was…obsessed." His voice is even, on the surface, but Danny can hear the cracks underneath. "It’s why I broke up with Lydia, it’s why everything that happened in sophomore year happened. But you got involved a couple of times, you even ended up in hospital once. I did want to keep it away from you. I didn’t want it to be your problem. Fuck, Danny, you’ve always had such a _normal_ life. I guess I didn’t want to get in the way of that."

"Bullshit, you never give a fuck about getting in the way of anyone’s anything. And even if you did, you should have told me when we started - "

"I know, okay, I do. But I can’t change that now, can I?" Jackson sighs heavily, and Danny’s suddenly tired of this conversation. He’s more frustrated than he thought he would, he’s angrier than he should that Jackson didn’t trust him with this. He just wants to get out of here, get away. He slides off the bed, feeling unsettled and upset. 

"Look, man, I’m gonna take off, I need to - "

He’s at the door when he feels Jackson’s hand on his shoulder, not turning him, just resting.

"Danny."

He doesn’t want to do this, it’s not a good time, not when he’s feeling angry and shaky and confused. But he turns anyway, pulling Jackson to him and kissing him furiously. He’s not thinking about anything other than showing Jackson how much he means to him, how much he hates that Jackson’s been hiding things from him. Jackson shudders and goes pliant, following Danny’s lead without question.

He’s never going to be over the softness of Jackson’s lips, how easily he parts them, how desperate he gets when Danny kisses him, and right now everything is magnified a hundred times, and Danny feels like he’s going to lost it completely. 

He drags his lips along Jackson’s jaw, biting at the just of it, and Jackson makes a soft noise, almost a whimper. Danny loves the noises he can get out of Jackson, the soft sounds he drops without meaning to. He sucks on Jackson’s neck, and gets another one, and they get deeper and louder when Danny bites gently, drawing blood to the surface. Marking him. 

He moves Jackson how he wants, marvelling at how easily Jackson goes, how fucking _willing_ he is, and he gets lost in it for a while, in Jackson’s mouth and skin where his shirt has been shoved up, in sliding his hands down to Jackson’s ass and pulling him against him, making sure Jackson knows how hard he is.

They haven’t done much beyond exchanging handjobs, but Danny does it without thinking, curls his hands around Jackson’s shoulders and _pushes_. And Jackson goes, sliding to his knees, moaning softly when he presses his face against Danny’s crotch, breathing heavily, and Danny threads his fingers through his hair, holding him tight, and Jackson whimpers.

"C’mon, Jackson, do it," he says, he _orders_ , and Jackson doesn’t hesitate, he practically rips open Danny’s jeans and pulls them down his hips with his boxers. 

"Start slow," he says, softly. His hands are still in Jackson’s hair, holding him still, and Jackson’s staring at his dick and licking his lips. Fuck. "Wrap your hand around the base. Watch your teeth. Don’t get over ambitious."

Jackson huffs, and Danny tugs his hair just hard enough to hurt. It makes Jackson sigh and closes his eyes, one hand dropping to palm the front of his jeans. 

He’s incredible like this.

Jackson slowly runs his tongue along Danny’s dick, from where his hand is wrapped around the base to the tip, and he swirls his tongue around the head. It’s fucking amazing, not to mention a hell of a tease. Jackson’s a natural at this. He slowly works Danny’s dick into his mouth, slurping and moaning. He sounds as if it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted and this is going to be over real quick.

And Danny’s never been much of a talker, but he can’t help the way the words fall from his lips--there’s something about having Jackson on his knees that compels him to.

"Fuck, Jackson, you are so good at this, so fucking good for me." He squeezes his eyes shut and concentrates on the wet, perfect heat of Jackson’s mouth. 

Jackson shudders, and he presses forward, takes more of Danny’s cock into his mouth. His other hand is on Danny’s thigh, just resting there, not doing anything, really, to stop Danny from fucking into his mouth, and Danny does it involuntarily, his hips tilting forwards until Jackson gags.

He opens his mouth to apologize, loosens his grip to let Jackson pull back, but then he meets Jackson’s eyes, and Jackson just _looks_ at him, eyes wide and pleading. His hands haven’t moved an inch.

 _Fuck_.

Danny’s starting to feel shaky and out of control, like there’s something going on here that he can’t quite get his head around. But he wants, wants so badly, so he tightens his fists, pinkie fingers brushing the soft skin behind Jackson’s ears, and thrusts his hips slowly, sliding his dick further into Jackson’s mouth, until it hits the back of his throat. He pulls back quickly, then forward again, and he’s fucking his mouth shallowly, just barely keeping himself in check. 

Jackson’s eyes are closed and his hands, fuck, are clasped behind his back. His face is almost blissful, serene, and when Danny pulls his head forward by the back of the neck, he whimpers so perfectly. Danny’s so close, and he suddenly knows exactly what he wants. He pushes Jackson back a little and takes his cock in hand, pumping rapidly.

"Gonna come on your face," he says, and Jackson whimpers, mouth open, spit and pre-come dripping all over his chin, the prettiest, dirtiest thing Danny’s ever seen.

At least, it is until he twists his hand at the top of the upstroke and comes, on Jackson’s chin and cheeks and lips, and Jackson just takes it all, swiping his tongue out to lick Danny’s come from his lips.

"God, Jackson," he pants out, trying to get his breath back, thankful for the door at his back keeping him upright. Jackson doesn’t move, just rests his head against Danny’s knee and breathes heavily, like he’s the one who just had a ridiculously good orgasm. It takes Danny a moment to realize he’s talking, mumbling quietly,

"Please, Danny, please let me come, I need to - "

Jackson’s pleading, asking for permission, and the power is unbelievably heady. Danny almost wants to deny him, to see how far he could push him, how long he could hold off, how pretty he could beg - 

But his head is a little clearer now, for all he’s still feeling a little off-balance when he pulls Jackson up and shoves his jeans aside, and he strips his dick hard and fast until Jackson comes, breathing into Danny’s name into his neck like a prayer.

***

Danny can’t stop thinking about it.

Jackson’s expression while Danny fucked his face, his complete and utter pliancy, the way he’d begged Danny to let him come. 

It’s not like Danny’s totally inexperienced with this stuff. He’s had a decent amount of sex, and while he’s never done anything really kinky, there was this one guy who wanted to tie him up. Danny agreed to it, but didn’t really _get_ it.

But this is Jackson, not some random guy he doesn’t much care if he sees again, and Jackson has issues coming out his ears, and it’s difficult to tell where one set ends and another begins. Or if this is something Jackson’s going to be weird about.

All signs point to yes, given the fact that Jackson refuses to talk about it. The two times Danny’s tried to bring it up, he shrugged it off and changed the subject.

It makes him feel a little foolish, like maybe there’s nothing _to_ talk about, and he’s blowing things out of proportion. But the thing that had been missing, the thing he’d not been able to put his finger on, that’s the only thing that had slid into place when he’d had Jackson on his knees like that.

So no, he knows he’s not imagining it.

"Hey, Danny."

Jackson comes up behind him, one hand resting briefly low on his back, and leans against the lockers next to him. Danny just grunts in reply and tries not to think about Jackson on his knees, begging him to let him come. 

"We doing anything tonight?"

 _Well, I thought maybe you could come over, and we could talk about what’s going on and then you could sub for me like I know you really want to_ , he thinks, and holds back a sigh. He can’t decide if Jackson would punch him, laugh at him, or run away from him if he said that. Probably all three. 

He slams his locker door shut and turns to Jackson, the smile on his face ninety percent real.

"Whatever you want," he says.

*

They’re on Danny’s bed, making out, homework pushed off to the side in favour of open mouths and wandering hands.

The sex they’ve been having has been…good, but since that time Danny can’t help but feel it’s lackluster by comparison. Jackson’s never been as open, he’s never enjoyed himself that much, he’s never come that hard. He’s always holding back just a little bit. 

Danny doesn’t really know what else to do. That this is probably the the wrong way to go about it, he does know, but he’s frustrated and out of options. And really, really horny.

Danny gets his hands on Jackson’s shoulders and rolls them so he’s straddling Jackson’s hips, and he slides his hands down Jackson’s chest, enjoying the curve and stretch of his muscles.

He tugs Jackson’s shirt off, and before Jackson can return the favour, Danny curls his hands around Jackson’s wrists and pins them to the bed, leaning down at the same time to kiss him again, curling his tongue around Jackson’s.

Jackson’s body goes taut, and he’s suddenly _much_ harder than he was a moment ago, his body going from lazily turned on to full speed ahead. Danny takes it as encouragement and pushes Jackson’s hands up further, until they’re right over his head, and his hips are pinned to the bed by Danny’s. 

"Is this what you wanted, Jackson?" He leans down so he can say it softly into Jackson’s skin, nipping at his neck, relishing the soft give of Jackson’s body underneath him. Once he’s thoroughly marked Jackson’s neck, he sits back, smiling at the way Jackson’s eyes are closed, his body totally lax, his face relaxed.

And then Jackson’s eyes flutter open, and he freezes, and something slams shut behind his eyes. He shoves Danny, hard, and Danny lets go immediately, sliding off him.

"I gotta go," Jackson says, scrambling up and frantically pulling his clothes back on, his shirt inside out, his shoes in his hand.

"Jackson - "

"I’ll talk to you later," he interrupts, and then he grabs his keys and phone and he’s gone.

Danny flops back on his bed and sighs.

Well, shit.

***

Jackson doesn’t call him at all the next day, so Danny spends most of the morning sitting around feeling irritable and guilty, until his mom pops her head into his room and tells him to stop moping, that Jackson will come around. He really, really does not want his mother’s input on this subject, so before she decides they should have a heart-to-heart about what’s going on with him and Jackson, he gets up, takes a shower, then sits down to do some research.

Wikipedia is helpful, to a point, and there are links in the references to other sites, and he ends up spending nearly four hours on the internet. Some of the things he sees he’s pretty sure are burned into his brain forever, however much he would like to scrub them out, but some of it... Some of it turns him on so much he almost can’t breathe. The idea of doing this to Jackson, _with_ Jackson… And the more he reads, the more sense it makes, the more he’s starting to see what it is that Jackson won’t tell him. 

It takes him back to how this started, to Jackson, hard after every practice, pushing his buttons when he was captaining. 

Jackson has always been eager, desperate even, to please. He cares _so much_ what other people think about him, a bizarre contrast to his fuck-off, I’m-better-than-everyone persona. He’s never thought he’s good enough, not for his parents, not for the team, not for Lydia, but he never gives himself a break, never stops trying. 

Danny’s not sure where the lines are, whether Jackson’s desires spring from his plethora of other issues, or if they’re related but separate. He doesn’t even know how aware Jackson is of what he wants, what he seems to crave. One thing, however, is totally clear. 

They need to talk about this. Danny wants to give Jackson what he wants. What he _needs_. And that clearly isn’t going to happen unless they talk.

He’s been dealing with Jackson for years; he knows him. He knows Jackson doesn’t know how to look weak in front of people. Or at least, what he perceives as weakness. He watched Jackson spiralling out of control in sophomore year and watched him slowly piece himself back together the next. He worries sometimes that he doesn’t know him like he used to, but he does know that if he doesn’t push this, Jackson won’t come to him. And eventually, something will have to give.

***

"Another beer?"

Jackson nods and Danny heads for the kitchen. He’s so nervous his hands are shaking a little, and it’s so fucking ridiculous. This shouldn’t be that hard to talk about. They’re in a relationship. Sex is something you should talk about in a relationship, right? 

He opens the fridge and stares the shelves without really seeing them. 

He’s planned this; his parents are going to be gone until tomorrow, Jackson’s been over all day, and they’ve mostly been playing Xbox in the living room, occasionally getting distracted and making out for a while. Danny wants to do this at his place so that Jackson can walk out if he wants to, and he’s been doing his best to…he doesn’t want to say _take care_ of Jackson, because he knows what Jackson would think of that, but he’s been accommodating. Even more than he usually is. 

"You get lost or something?"

Jackson’s followed him into the kitchen and is standing in the doorway, hands shoved in his pockets. 

"No, I just…" He hesitates for a second, still a little anxious, and he decides to just go for it. "Can we talk for a sec?" 

Jackson’s eyes narrow for a moment, and his forehead wrinkles, but he sits down at the kitchen counter and gestures for Danny to go ahead. Danny sits down opposite him.

"Uh," he starts. 

"Man, are you okay?" Jackson sounds like he’s trying not to sound nervous, but his face gives him away; he’s beginning to look faintly panicked. Danny does the first thing he can think of to reassure him, leaning forward and kissing him, hand slipping around to the back of Jackson’s head to hold him in place. 

When he pulls back a moment later, Jackson’s eyes flutter open.

"Did we really need to sit down for that?" he asks, teasingly. Danny smiles, but it’s forced, and Jackson can tell, reaching out to touch his shoulder.

"Hey, Danny, what - "

"Last week, when we were in your room," Danny blurts out and Jackson starts, pulling back, pulling out of Danny’s grip.

"I don’t - " he starts, but Danny interrupts.

"No, Jackson, we’re talking about this."

"There’s nothing to talk about, I don’t get what the big deal is, why are you being so weird, I don’t…" Jackson keeps talking, muttering vaguely, practically babbling, and he’s standing up like he’s about to bolt, and this is exactly how Danny was afraid this was going to go.

"Jackson, stop." He does it deliberately, pitches his voice a little deeper than normal, makes the words as crisp and forceful as he can.

Jackson does, instantly. 

"Sit down."

Jackson drops back into his seat, eyes closing, and takes a deep breath.

Danny walks around the kitchen counter and sits on the stool next to him. He touches Jackson’s face, his fingers skirting along his cheekbone, palm coming to cup his jaw.

"I’ve been doing some reading," he says hesitantly, which makes Jackson snorts, but he leans into the touch. 

"Nerd." 

Danny ignores him. "Do you want to, sometime, try something a bit…different?" It comes out twice as awkward as he would have liked, but at least it’s out there.

"Danny, I don’t know what you think I want - "

" _Stop it_." He leans back and forces Jackson to look at him. Jackson does, chin high and eyes defiant. "It’s not…what you want, it’s not _bad_. It doesn’t make you…weak or shameful or whatever the hell is going on inside your head."

Jackson holds his eyes for a moment, and something unguarded and a little scared flickers in them. He pulls back and shrugs out of Danny’s touch. 

"Whatever, man, I have no idea what you’re talking about." 

"Yes, you do." Danny’s done pussyfooting around the issue. He leans in closer, not touching Jackson, but so Jackson can hear him when he says quietly, 

"What is it that you want, _exactly_? Because I have some ideas. You want me to hurt you? Tie you up, make you beg? Order you to your knees, _use_ you?" Just saying it thrills something inside him, makes his heart pound.

It’s a huge fucking gamble, but it’s worth it, so worth it, when Jackson shudders and leans in closer. 

"I’ve thought about it," Danny admits, and now he drags his index finger along the inside of Jackson’s forearm. He scrapes his nail in the crook of his elbow. "Thought about tying you to my bed. Laying you out, spreading you open. About you doing everything I tell you to. About you _submitting_ to me like I know you want to." 

Jackson whimpers now, and when he glances down, Danny can see he’s starting to get hard. He rests his hands on Jackson’s thighs, too low to be anything but a tease. 

"Are you gonna give it up for me, Jackson? Let me hold you down, fuck you?" He has no idea where the shit he’s babbling is coming from now, and he feels simultaneously powerless and in total control. "Order you to get on your hands and knees for me?" 

Jackson looks half-wrecked now, and he’s almost panting into Danny’s neck, and fuck, when did things spiral so totally out of control? They were supposed to talk about this, have a rational discussion, be the adults they totally aren’t about this. 

He needs Jackson to admit that he wants this, to _tell him_ what he wants from him. To ask for it.

With great reluctance, he pulls back. Jackson makes a breathy noise, unmistakably disappointed, and it takes all Danny’s self-control not to drag him upstairs.

" _No_ ," he says. Jackson’s head snaps up, like he’s been shocked out of a daze. "No," Danny repeats, feeling a little hysterical, "we’re not doing it like this." 

"Danny - "

"No. When you decide you’re not too much of a coward to ask for what you want, and when you get that there’s no shame in admitting it, and you stop being so fucking childish about it, come and find me."

It sounds harsher than he meant, but he doesn’t regret it. Sometimes Jackson needs harsh.

"I want to," Jackson says. There’s a desperate edge to his voice. "But I can’t."

"Well, I guess we’re stuck then."

Jackson looks like he’s going to say something else, but then he pulls back and stands up. At the stressed out, almost desperate expression on his face, Danny wants to pull him back down, kiss him until they forget everything. He doesn’t.

Jackson makes it to the door before Danny finds his voice. 

"You need to trust me," he says quietly. "You _can_ trust me."

Jackson hesitates in the doorway, his back still turned. "I know," he says. He sounds furious about it.

And then he’s gone.

***

Most of Sunday is spent worrying.

Danny wonders if he pushed Jackson too hard, if he should have just let it go. When Jackson hasn’t called, texted or emailed him by three, he bites the bullet and dials his number.

Naturally, it goes straight to voicemail. He waits for the beep.

"Hey, Jackson, it’s me. Look, I’m sorry about yesterday, maybe I came on too strong. I just…I want you to know that if that’s what you want, you can have it. With me. But, uh, if you want to forget the whole thing, that’s cool too. We don’t have to do anything different. So. Yeah. Call me."

He leaves another message at six.

"Um, I just wanted to say again, this doesn’t have to be a thing, okay? I’m not trying to pressure you into anything weird, I only want to do this if we both want it. So stop freaking out or whatever you’re doing. Call me?"

Jackson doesn’t call him.

***

By Friday night, Danny’s beyond frustrated, and he’s half-heartedly thinking of going out just for the sake of it when there’s a tap at his window. It’s loud enough to make him jump, and he scrambles off the bed to pull up the blinds.

Jackson’s at his bedroom window, crouched on the ledge outside as if this is totally normal behaviour. As if he hasn’t been freezing Danny out all week. 

"Jackson, what..." He pulls open the window and Jackson climbs through. He’s incredibly graceful about it, and Danny’s reminded once again that his boyfriend is, in fact, not totally human. He sometimes wonders if he should worry about that more.

Jackson hasn’t said anything, but he dumped his backpack on the floor and now he’s pacing Danny’s room, looking out of breath and disgruntled. Danny sits back and waits.

"Derek kicked me out," Jackson says, finally. "We were at his house, the whole pack, and he told me to get out because he could smell my angsting and it was irritating."

Danny manages to hold back his laugh, but only just. 

"Um, okay?" 

"Shut up," Jackson says, glaring. "I don’t…" he trails off, and finally stops pacing. He pulls something out of his backpack and drops onto the bed next to him.

Danny stares.

Lying on his bed is a pair of leather cuffs with a silver buckle and shiny D-rings, and a metal bar that loops between them. He raises his eyes to Jackson’s, who sits down next to him.

"I do trust you," Jackson says quietly. "More than anyone."

Danny leans forward, takes Jackson’s face into his hands and very softly kisses him on the lips. All his irritation melts away. Jackson doesn’t pull away; instead, he rests his forehead against Danny’s and sighs. 

"I bought them online a couple of years ago. You know the store name doesn’t show up on your credit card statement?"

Danny nods, but doesn’t speak, afraid of somehow disrupting this magical, alternate universe where Jackson is actually talking to him about this. Jackson sighs again, and he shuffles down until he’s hiding his face in Danny’s neck.

"I was just messing around on the internet, and I ended up on this website and...and I couldn’t help myself, I just _wanted_ and so I bought them. And when the box arrived I stuck it at the back of my closet and never looked at it again."

Danny can see it so easily. Jackson’s embarrassment, his denial. He slips his fingers into Jackson’s hair and doesn’t speak for a moment, letting Jackson breathe slow and steady against his throat.

"So are you ready to really talk to me?" Danny asks softly. Jackson doesn’t reply right away, but he turns his face further away, so that when he does his voice is muffled by Danny’s shirt. 

"I want you to do whatever you want with me. I want you to tell me what to do. I want - " Jackson swallows. "I want to please you."

The words make Danny shiver, and fuck, he wants that too, wants Jackson giving himself totally over into Danny’s hands, letting Danny do whatever he wants with him. It’s taking a lot not to push Jackson back onto his bed and go crazy.

"Is it more than that?" he asks instead. "Do you want…do you want me to hurt you?"

"I think so," Jackson says. "I’ve never - I don’t - " 

"Hey, it’s cool, we can figure it out together, right?"

Danny gently disentangles himself from Jackson and goes to the door and locks it. His parents are out for at least another two hours - it’s date night - but he’d rather be on the safe side. 

"Okay. Umm," he says, sliding back onto the bed, facing Jackson straight on this time, "I’m going to mention some specific stuff, and you’re going to tell me if you’re interested in it or not. If you don’t know, that’s fine, just say it, and we can talk about it later, okay?"

Danny reaches over to his nightstand and pulls out the page he printed out from under a pile of books. Jackson rolls his eyes.

"You made a list?" He sounds snarky now, a little more like the Jackson Danny’s used to seeing. He grins at him.

"Gotta be organized, dude."

Jackson just rolls his eyes and gestures for him to go on. Danny clears his throat. He’s glad that he printed it out, now, not only because he’s not sure he’d have remembered them all. He’s grateful to have something to fix his eyes on.

"Bondage? I guess that’s a yes."

Jackson nods.

"Um, spanking? And, I guess, flogging and whipping and - " 

"I don’t know," Jackson interrupts, his cheeks a little pink. "In general, yeah, but I haven’t really thought about the, um, specifics." 

"Orgasm denial?" 

Jackson nods.

"Uh, bloodplay?"

Jackson tenses, a tiny shudder going through his body, and he shakes his head. Interesting. Now’s probably not the time to push, though, so Danny lets it go.

"Humiliation?"

Jackson ponders this one. 

"Not really," he says eventually. "Not unless - "

"Yeah?"

"Not unless…you want to," Jackson says, and his ears are definitely pink now. Interesting.

He looks at the rest of the list he got of the website. CBT (he’d had to further look that up and he’s pretty sure his balls tried to climb up inside his body at the images he’d come across), wax play, suspension, electrostimulation, and has to choke back a wild laugh. He’s pretty sure he and Jackson really have no idea what they’re doing, and he certainly doesn’t have a clue how one goes about doing more than half of this stuff.

Danny tosses the list aside and crawls forward to kiss Jackson, softly at first, then harder, deeper, until Jackson is lying underneath him, breathing heavily and clutching at Danny’s shoulders.

"Did it turn you on?" Danny asks, brushing their lips together as he speaks. "Talking about it?"

"A little," Jackson admits. The way he shifts underneath Danny, the way he spreads his legs and rocks up, says it was probably more than a little.

"Do you want to…should we…" He’s pretty sure this isn’t how a scene is supposed to go, he’d read all sorts of things about boundaries and negotiation, and he’s trying his best but he can’t help feeling unbelievably out of his depth. 

"Yes," Jackson says, forcefully this time. Danny sits up. Jackson looks…different. Not embarrassed, like before. More defiant. Like he’s challenging someone to think less of him for wanting this.

It’s a start.

"Okay," Danny says, suddenly nervous. "Okay. There’s stuff about safe words and I don’t…should we stick to yellow and red? You know, yellow if you’re unsure about something, and you want to slow down or stop and renegotiate, red if you want out completely?"

"Yes."

Jackson’s demeanour is already changing. He’s sitting straighter, but his eyes are fixed on the floor. 

"Once we start, you do what I tell you to. No exceptions, okay? I’m in control, I need you to let me be. I can - I want to make this good for you, Jackson," he adds, trying not to sound as desperate as he feels. 

"I know you will," Jackson says, head staying bowed.

His faith is both reassuring and nerve-wracking. 

Danny stands, takes a few steps away from the bed and some deep breaths. He’s scared and excited and all sorts of things he doesn’t really know how to process, so he takes a deep breath. 

"Come here," he says, trying to keep his voice level. 

Jackson stands and moves until he’s standing close enough that Danny can see the freckles sprinkling his cheeks. 

"Here are the rules." He’d written them down, too, toyed with ideas based on what he thought Jackson wanted, on what he himself had been jerking off to for nearly two weeks. 

"One, the minute you’re unhappy or scared or not enjoying anything at all, you tell me, okay. You don’t get points for not using a safe word."

Jackson doesn’t move, barely breathes. Danny reaches out and tips his chin upwards.

"Two, you always answer any question I ask you vocally, either with a yes, Danny, or a yes, sir. Understood?"

Jackson swallows. "Yes, sir."

 _Fuck_. Danny was turned on before; despite the awkwardness and slight embarrassment accompanying their previous conversation, it’d been hot to talk about it, to think about it. Jackson’s softly spoken "sir" goes straight to his cock. 

"Three, you don’t get to come without permission."

Jackson whimpers, and shifts a little, but he nods. "Yes, sir."

Danny traces his fingers along Jackson’s jaw and down his neck. 

"Take off your clothes." 

Jackson sheds his jacket and pulls off his t-shirt, and Danny will never get sick of looking at his body, of touching the smooth, taut lines of his chest and shoulders. Jackson is gorgeous, it’s something he’s always known, but it’s different when he’s allowed to look like this, when he’s allowed to _touch_. 

Jackson’s hands skim along his waist, unbuttoning his jeans and pushing them down. He hooks his fingers in the waistband of his boxers, and hesitates a fraction before tugging them down as well. His dick is already half hard; it’s fucking mouthwatering. Danny resists the sudden urge to get on his knees and suck him down, to lick and tongue the head of his cock and coax more of those gorgeous sounds out of him. 

Instead, he trails his hands down Jackson’s stomach and lets his fingers play lightly around the base of Jackson’s cock.

"Rule four." He leans in even further, so he can whisper directly into Jackson’s ear. "You obey everything I say _without hesitation_."

"Yes, sir." Jackson’s voice is definitely quivering now, his breath coming out short. 

"If you break the rules, you will be punished." Danny hopes Jackson isn’t planning on it, because he has no idea what punishing him would involve. "Now get on the bed." He steps back abruptly, and Jackson’s eyes fly open. He scrambles back, tumbling onto Danny’s bed uncharacteristically clumsily. Danny follows him to the bed, sitting next to him and placing his palm in the center of his chest. 

"On your back. Bend your knees and spread your legs, just wider than your hips," he orders. He picks up the cuffs lying near Jackson's hip. 

"I’m going to restrain you now," he says, keeping his voice as steady as he can. "Do you want that?"

"Yes, Danny, please." 

He slips the soft leather around Jackson’s wrists and buckles it securely. The black and silver looks amazing against his skin.

"Hands above your head," he says. He pulls Jackson up until his hands are through the bars of Danny’s headboard (and never has Danny been so grateful for the otherwise stupidly uncomfortable thing) and then threads the snaps of the steel bar through the D-rings. 

He steps back to admire his work. Jackson looks good tied to his bed. 

Slowly shrugging out of his hoodie, he slips over to the bed and sits next to Jackson. He runs his fingers slowly over his chest, along his collar bones, noting the way Jackson shivers when his index finger slips into the hollow of his throat. Interesting. When he does it again, pressing a little harder, Jackson gasps and bucks against his restraints, his hips moving up off the bed.

Danny’s definitely going to file that one away for future reference. 

For now, he moves further down, scraping a nail over Jackson’s nipple, down his firm stomach. Fuck this. He leans over and trails his fingers with his tongue, stopping to suck on his left nipple until a constant stream of low-grade moans are falling from Jackson's mouth

God, he could do this forever, tracing the perfect lines of Jackson’s body with his fingers and tongue, kissing and biting and marking him until he’s desperate, until Danny’s touched every inch of skin. As it is, Jackson’s already panting for it, his dick hard against his belly, drooling precome onto his abs. Danny swipes at it with his tongue, carefully avoiding any contact with his cock.

"Danny, _please_."

"Begging already?" Jackson doesn’t reply, but his answer is clear in the way he moves his hips pointlessly, trying to rub up against nothing.

"Stop that." Danny plants his hands on Jackson’s hips and holds them to the bed. "Control yourself." 

"I can’t," Jackson says, almost whines, and that’s definitely insubordination in his tone. 

"If you don’t, you’re not going to get to come at all," Danny tells him. 

It has the desired effect - Jackson stops moving. Danny climbs off the bed, and doesn’t miss the way Jackson’s eyes track him across the room. He doesn’t say a word though, doesn’t protest at all. Such a good boy. 

Danny strips slowly, makes a show of it as much as he can without feeling utterly ridiculous. The part of his brain that isn’t caught up in what’s happening, that isn’t susceptible to the rush he gets every time Jackson does what he tells him to, feels a little foolish still. Danny ignores it. 

Jackson licks his lips, bites them, when Danny pulls his shirt off, and Danny palms himself through his jeans, just to see what his reaction will be. It’s good; Jackson’s eyes widen and he shifts on the bed. Danny smirks at him.

He pushes his jeans and boxers off in one go and takes himself in hand, stroking his now fully-hard cock, and watches Jackson go a little wild, groaning and tugging at his bonds again, trying to twist himself out of their grip. 

"Now, what should I do with you?" he says, and sure it sounds like something out of a bad porno, but Jackson doesn’t seem to care, swallowing hard, his eyes glued to Danny's dick.

"Whatever you want, sir," he says, and licks his lips again, as if he wants nothing more than for Danny to slide his cock between those pretty lips. Danny’s more than happy to oblige him. 

He straddles Jackson’s chest, knees planted on either side of his ribs, resting just enough of his weight on Jackson's stomach for him to feel it. It gives him a perfect view of Jackson's face, and he brushes his thumbs along his cheekbones tenderly. 

When his fingers drag down Jackson's cheek, his thumb catches on his lips, and Danny can't do anything but slide past them into his mouth. Jackson clearly loves it; he licks around it before he starts to suck, pursing his lips almost to the point of silliness, and generally looking like the best cocksucker in the history of man.

Not that Danny's exaggerating or anything. 

Danny pulls his thumb out of Jackson's mouth and slides back, shoving two pillows under Jackson’s head and shoulders so he’s propped up a little higher. Then he shuffles back up his body, anchoring his legs across Jackson's shoulders. Badly as he wants to just go for it, he takes his time, dragging his cock along Jackson's lips and chin. It's obscenely amusing, the way Jackson's tongue darts out to swipe at it, desperate for a taste.

When he finally gives in, it’s as good as he’d imagined it would be. Jackson doesn’t look afraid or intimidated at all, just blissful as Danny slides slowly into his mouth, his neck straining upwards, rocking back and forth as best he can from the angle. 

It’s not like Danny’s had hundreds of blow jobs in his life, but he has at least some kind of scale for comparison. This is far and away the best one he’s ever had.

It’s impossible for Jackson to do this for long, between the awkward angle of his head and the way he’s drooling and nearly choking every time Danny accidentally hits the back of his throat. It doesn’t matter, though, because it’s not going to take Danny long at all, and while coming in Jackson’s mouth would be fantastic, he’s a little afraid he’ll actually choke him if he does. 

He goes for Jackson’s chest instead, and comes with one hand on his dick, all over Jackson’s pecs, and three fingers of the other in Jackson’s mouth. 

It just barely takes the edge off.

After a moment he slides down Jackson's body and kisses him filthily. Jackson moans into it, his tongue hot and desperate in Danny’s mouth, especially when Danny pushes a finger through the come on his chest, rubbing it into Jackson’s skin. 

Jackson looks almost out of it when he pulls back, like he’s the one who just came, and Danny takes advantage of it to move over and grab a half-empty tube of KY out of his nightstand. And a condom or two. 

"Spread your legs for me," he says, turning back to Jackson. His knees have fallen together and off to the side, but he immediately rights them, squirming slightly when Danny runs a hand up his thigh, and spreading them further. 

"Slut," Danny says affectionately. He’s sure Jackson’s going to complain about that one later. He’s kind of looking forward to it. 

He knows what Jackson’s expecting, and he does nothing to divert his suspicions, placing sucking kisses along the inside of Jackson’s thighs, right up to where it meets his hip. He brushes his thumbs along the cleft of his ass, and when Jackson shoves down into the touch, he leans up and sucks his cock into his mouth.

Jackson’s hips shoot off the bed at the sudden heat and pressure, and Danny’s too desperate for this to think about chastising him. Maybe he should, but Jackson tastes amazing, and he doesn’t want to stop. Jackson’s good, anyway, snapping his hips back to the bed, and remaining content to groan louder and louder as Danny sucks him, rather than attempt to fuck into his mouth. When Danny glances up, he can see Jackson’s white-knuckled grip on his headboard. 

Danny’s a fucking pro at this, and just when he can tell Jackson’s about to come, he pulls off. Jackson lets out a shocked sob, and this time he does chase Danny’s mouth with his hips. 

"Rule three?" Danny asks, voice a little hoarse. It takes Jackson a moment, screwing his eyes shut like he’s trying to will his orgasm away.

"No coming without permission," he eventually gasps out. 

"Were you about to?" 

He takes a moment to reply, then, "Yes, sir."

"Did you ask permission?"

"No, sir."

"Then you’re going to have to wait even longer."

Jackson closes his eyes and breathes out, "Yes, sir, I’m sorry."

"Good."

While Jackson is struggling to get himself under control, Danny fumbles the tube of lube open and coats his fingers. He spreads Jackson's ass cheeks and slides his finger down his cleft, rubbing gently over his hole, and Jackson inhales sharply.

" _Fuck_ , Danny, please, _please_."

Danny does it again, teasing at Jackson's rim with his thumb and rubbing his perineum with his fingers. Jackson's thighs are almost shaking with the effort of keeping still. Danny slides his palm along one of them.

"It's okay, you can move," he says, and Jackson's heels plant hard on the bed, and he pushes down into Danny's touch. Danny lets the tip of his thumb slide just inside Jackson's hole.

"What do you want?" he asks, softly now. Jackson’s ass is fucking mesmerising, especially with the way he’s shoving his hips down, trying to get at Danny’s fingers. The metal of his cuffs clanks against the bedframe with every movement.

"Your fingers, please, just fucking put them inside me."

Again, he wonders if he’s supposed to chastise Jackson for that, for being so demanding, but Jackson’s ass is practically calling to him now, and he repositions his hand and slides his index finger inside. It’s tight as _hell_ , his rim clinging to Danny’s knuckle, and Danny thinks for a crazy second that he could probably come just thinking about shoving his dick in there. 

He fingers Jackson slowly, teasingly, adding fingers and stroking over his prostate until Jackson is almost sobbing.

"Danny, please, _please_ , I’m going to come, I can’t - "

Danny stops immediately, pulling his fingers out. He moves up to kiss Jackson.

"Good boy," he murmurs against his lips, and Jackson smiles weakly at him.

He fumbles with lube-slippery fingers to get a condom packet open, sincerely regretting not doing this beforehand. It takes him three goes to get the packet open and then he rips it in his haste to get it on. 

"Fuck," he mutters under his breath, and just in case Jackson is with it enough to notice, he slides two fingers back into Jackson’s sloppy, open ass just to distract him. He rips the second one open with his teeth, and rolls it on slowly this time. 

His hands are so fucking slippery, he’s beginning to think he went overboard on the lube, but he slicks himself up, and wipes his hands on his sheets. Jackson’s ass is so well-slicked it’s probably going to take a miracle to get in there. 

He rests the head of his dick against Jackson’s rim, teasing it forward slightly and pulling back, sliding his dick along the cleft of his ass, fucking over his hole a few times. 

"Fuck, Danny, please fuck me, I need you," Jackson begs, and finally Danny pushes Jackson’s legs back, almost folding him in half, and then grips the base of his dick hard. He works himself in slowly; for all his stretching, this is still Jackson’s first time and it’s got to hurt at least a little. 

When he finally sinks in all the way, he’s braced over Jackson, Jackson’s legs hiked up high around Danny’s back. He’s trying wildly to think about all sorts of profoundly unsexy things, but it’s impossible to be distracted from Jackson underneath him like this, eyes closed and mouth open, panting harshly against Danny, his hips just starting to move in a silent plea for Danny to just fuck him already. 

He moves back and starts to, careful to avoid brushing Jackson’s dick, because he can’t imagine how close to the edge Jackson must be now. He fucks him slowly at first, and watches his dick sliding in and out of Jackson’s hole, almost painfully turned on. 

Jackson’s babbling now, and while silencing him would be an amazing feeling, he loves hearing his name falling from Jackson’s lips like that, surrounded by curses and pleas. It’s going to kill him, but it’s amazing. 

Jackson’s body is glistening with sweat now, and he’s panting rather than breathing. He looks exhausted, wrecked and utterly desperate.

Danny can relate; he doesn’t feel in full possession of his body. There’s a lightness to his limbs where he should be practically cramping now, and there’s a something to the way his heart is pounding that’s more than just exertion. 

"Do you want to come?" he pants, because he wants to get Jackson off like this, while he’s fucking him, and he’s not sure he can hold back any longer.

"Yes, sir." 

"Do you deserve to?"

Jackson squeezes his eyes shut and nods. 

"Uh-uh, what’s rule number four, Jackson?"

"Answer everything verbally, sir," Jackson says, his voice breaking on the last word.

"Did you?"

"No, sir."

"Then I’m going to have to punish you."

"Fuck, please, sir, please let me come, Danny, I need to, _please_." 

It’s too much, Jackson begging so shamelessly and he can’t deny him any longer.

Danny reaches down with his left hand and starts jerking Jackson off, hard and fast, all the while whispering in his ear.

"You’ve been so good, so perfect, Jackson, fuck, you’re perfect for me, Jackson, come now, come _now_."

The minute the words leave his lips, he feels Jackson’s body tighten, his back arching and heels digging into the sheets, and he’s twisting against the restraints and shooting all over his stomach and chest. He comes longer than Danny’s ever seen a guy come, and he’s almost sobbing when he does. It’s more than enough for Danny to follow him, shoving his hips hard one last time, and coming inside him.

Jackson collapses back onto the bed, every ounce of tension gone from his limbs, and Danny has the presence of mind to grip the base of the condom and pull out, tying it off and dumping it in the trash before collapsing half on top of Jackson.

He feels slightly dizzy, almost drunk, in a way that he never has after an orgasm (well, two). He kisses Jackson’s chest, tacky from the combination of their come, and then, realizing Jackson’s still bound, Danny moves up the bed and unfastens his wrists, gently lowering them next to Jackson on the bed. Jackson doesn’t move, just groans slightly and sprawls out.

"Your shoulders okay?" Danny asks. He’d read about possible stress injuries and he’s suddenly worried that Jackson may be hurt in a not-good-at-all way. 

"Mmhmm," Jackson says, but Danny’s not convinced he really heard him. He leans in and kisses the corner of Jackson’s mouth. 

"Stay right here, I’ll be back in a sec." While he wants nothing more than to curl up around Jackson and go the fuck to sleep, he hurries off to his bathroom, takes a ten second shower, and returns with two wet washcloths. 

He cleans Jackson’s chest and stomach gently, then slides the cloth along his ass as best he can without a huge amount of cooperation from Jackson. He dumps the washcloths on the floor and then maneuvers Jackson into a clean pair of boxers and a t-shirt, pulls some on himself, and slips under the covers. He turns him on his side and spoons up behind him, pulling Jackson against his chest. 

"You okay?" he asks softly, kissing the skin behind Jackson’s ear. He picks up Jackson’s wrist and traces the red marks around it.

"‘m great," Jackson mumbles. "Feel amazing."

They lie quietly, tangled up together, breathing deeply and evenly. 

Then, just when he is certain Jackson is asleep, just as he’s on the cusp of it himself, Danny hears him whisper, 

"Thank you."

***

Danny wakes up alone the next morning and curses fluently at the ceiling.

This is getting really old.

He texts Jackson and doesn’t get a reply. 

Shocker.

It’s hard not to wonder if he did something wrong. Jackson seemed fine afterwards, fell asleep without a problem. He didn’t even complain about being the little spoon. 

That it’s just Jackson freaking out again seems more likely, but he’s anxious enough that once he’s showered, eaten breakfast, and ignored the stink-eye his mom is giving him that means he’s in for a lecture soon, he heads out to look for him.

The fact that Jackson’s Porsche isn’t in his driveway rules that option out, and the next place Danny can think to go is the school. It’s almost entirely closed on a Saturday, but he checks the lacrosse field and the spot behind the biology labs that he knows Jackson used to go to cut class and smoke cigarettes back in freshman year. Both are empty.

Danny ends up wandering around town, feeling somewhere between anxious and irritated, which only makes him _more_ unsettled. He must look like a kicked puppy, because when he runs (literally) into Lydia outside Starbucks with Allison, she doesn’t even berate him.

"Hey, Danny." Allison’s the one who speaks, smiling up at him. It’s basically impossible not to respond to Allison’s smiles, and he gives her a small one in return.

"Hey, Allison. Lydia."

Lydia’s staring at him with uncomfortable intensity, clearly sizing him up, and then she turns to Allison.

"Sweetie, could you give us a minute? Go ahead, I’ll catch up. Order me a soy chai latte."

Allison smiles at him again, then ducks into the cafe, and the minute they’re alone, Lydia turns to him with her hands on her hips.

"Okay, what’s he done?"

"Wha - no, nothing, it’s not - " 

Lydia sighs and takes him by the arm, steering him until they’re round the corner, out of the way of most passers-by. 

"Trust me, I know that look,” she says. “What did he do?"

"Nothing," Danny says again, even though Lydia would be the perfect person to ask about this if it weren’t so fucking awkward.

Lydia’s apparently decided that she’s going to stare at him until he cracks. It takes twenty seconds.

"Not really anything, it’s just…" He sighs. "How do you deal with Jackson being…?"

"Jackson?" Lydia supplies. 

"Well…yeah."

"Uncommunicative and hard-headed?" 

"Something like that. He just…every time I think we’re taking a step forward, it seems like he runs away."

Lydia mutters something that sounds like _tell me about it_ , then crosses her arms. 

"Look, I don’t know the details of what’s going on, and I don’t really want to. But you know Jackson. He’s not a different person just because you two are…whatever, now. You know he needs space sometimes. The trick is working out how much to give him before he gets lost in his own head and starts psyching himself out."

Danny sighs, frustrated. "How the fuck do I do that?"

Lydia pats him on the arm. "Time and a lot of effort, honey," she says. She’s never called him that before. It sounds vaguely pitying. 

"That’s your big advice? Give him space but not too much space?" He can’t help but sound a bit disappointed. 

"Oh, I’ve got plenty more. Fight with him. Don’t let him get away with shit. There’s this spot on the back of his - "

"Whoa, okay, thanks," he interrupts. She smirks at him.

"But I’m not going to give you anymore," she says. "Figuring out how to be with Jackson is half the fun of being with him." 

"He’s not a…puzzle I’m trying to figure out," he says, slightly offended on Jackson’s behalf. "I just…"

"What?" She actually sounds curious. 

"I _want_ him," he says, trying not to feel too embarrassed. 

Lydia smiles at him surprisingly softly. "Then you’ll be fine," she says, and turns to go. 

"I have a good feeling about the two of you," she calls back as she rounds the corner. 

And, suddenly and surprisingly, Danny does too.

*

"Okay, here’s the deal," Danny says, breezing into Jackson’s room and perching on the edge of his desk without so much as a greeting. Jackson, who’d been lying on his bed with his headphones on, sits up and scowls.

"Danny, what the hell?"

Danny took Lydia’s advice at face value. He went home, didn’t let himself call or text Jackson, did some homework, tried to sneakily wash his sheets and submitted to a fifteen minute lecture from his mother about Jackson staying over when she caught him. He left him alone all day, and at eight o’clock, figuring Jackson would be home by then, he headed over.

"Here’s how it’s going to work," he continues. "I’m tired of you running away from me every time we cross a new line or whatever. I get why you do it, but we’re done with that, okay? You need space, fine. I’m not going to crowd you. But when you’re freaking out about something to do with…this," he waves his hand around a little wildly, "you tell me. Okay? Even if you then go off and do your own thing for a bit."

Jackson’s jaw is working and he’s glaring, but he doesn’t actually say anything. Danny goes over and sits next to him.

"Okay?" he says again. "You don’t have to tell me everything, just stop running away. Please," he adds softly, when Jackson doesn’t reply.

It does the trick, Jackson relaxes slightly. “Okay,” he says with a shrug. 

"You’re also going to stop being embarrassed about this. What, you think I’m going to go around telling everyone at school about what we do together?"

Jackson growls, he actually _growls_ , like the freaking werewolf that he is.

"You think I’m going to talk about you when you’re not around? You think I give a shit about anyone’s input into this relationship except for yours and mine?" 

Jackson’s still looking a little murderous, but Danny can tell the point’s sinking in. 

"I get that you don’t want everyone to know, which is fine. I don’t want that either. It’s not about anyone else. So, Jackson," and this time he pushes Jackson back a little and slings his leg across Jackson’s, so he’s kneeling in his lap, "this is just you and me. All of it. So you’re going to _stop being embarrassed about it_. Have you got that?"

Jackson’s eyes are dark now, and he’s looking at Danny hungrily, his eyes dropping to his mouth. He slowly brings his arms up around Danny’s waist and falls backwards, pulling Danny with him. 

"Got it," he says. He tilts his head up, inviting a kiss, but Danny holds back.

"I know you, Jackson," he says, instead. "I know you really fucking well, and I’m not going anywhere. Have you got _that_ yet?" 

It’s what he’s wanted to say since the beginning, what he’s been hoping Jackson is going to realize on his own. Jackson closes his eyes and breathes in, like the words hurt him to hear. Danny leans in closer and nuzzles his jaw, kissing the soft skin underneath. When Jackson keens, his body shifting up, straining towards Danny’s, Danny moves his mouth to Jackson’s lips and gives him a real kiss. 

They kiss for a long moment, open-mouthed but still soft, and it’s like it leeches the tension out of Jackson’s body, and he goes slack underneath Danny. When they finally part, his cheeks are pink. It makes his freckles stand out. 

"What’s rule four?" Danny whispers against his lips. Jackson looks confused, just for a second, then smiles.

"Answer every question verbally and immediately."

"Well?"

"Yes, _Danny_ ," he says. "I get it."

"Fucking finally," Danny mutters, and kisses him again.

**Epilogue - four months later**

They collapse back onto the bed, both panting and sweaty.

"Jesus fuck, that hurt," Jackson complains, half-heartedly punching Danny’s shoulder.

"Yes, well, that was kind of the point, dumbass," Danny retorts, too lazy and fucked-out to bother returning the shove.

"Whatever," Jackson huffs. 

"Hey, you don’t want me to punish you, don’t be such a dick on the practice field." 

"Mmm, you kind of lost it at the end there, dude."

It’s Danny’s turn to say, "whatever" and he rolls over to dump the condom in the trash. 

They’d started off intense, Jackson kneeling up on the bed, Danny spanking him roughly (turns out Jackson _loves_ being spanked cherry red until his ass is burning and Danny's not complaining about it either), but by the end they’d been laughing hysterically over something or other, and Danny could hardly stop long enough to actually fuck Jackson. 

He rolls back over and pulls Jackson on top of him, kissing him lazily. There’s no intent behind it except to make out with Jackson (who’s better at it than any other guy Danny’s ever kissed, something he still hasn’t told Jackson), but Jackson laughs again. 

"Fucking nympho," he says, and then Danny does shove him, and they end up mock wrestling until they remember they really are too tired for this and fall back down. 

"You know," Jackson says conversationally after a few minutes’ silence, "there was a time I thought I had a thing for Coach."

" _What_?" Danny splutters, turning to stare at Jackson in horrified amazement. 

Jackson’s doing his best to look unconcerned, but there’s embarrassment and humour tinging his expression.

"You know how, after practice, I was always - "

"Hard?" Danny supplies, starting to grin. "Yeah, I noticed."

"Well, I wondered if maybe it was - "

"Because of _Coach Finstock_?" He can’t help it, it’s close to the funniest thing he’s ever heard, and Danny collapses into laughter, smothering his face in the pillow. "Oh my god," he gasps, "there’s something I never wanted to picture."

"How do you think _I_ felt," Jackson says, sounding aggrieved. "It was a relief to realize it was just the, you know, ordering around, rather than - " That sets Danny off again, and there are tears in his eyes now and choking seems to be a genuine hazard. 

"Don’t be an jackass." Jackson scowls and pushes him hard enough that Danny winds up on his ass on the floor, but it’s totally worth it, and he just lies there laughing for a minute. 

Jackson gives an exaggerated huff, and pointedly turns his back on Danny. 

Danny’s kind of in love with him.

He climbs back up on the bed and crawls over Jackson. "C’mon, it’s a little funny." He braces himself over Jackson, who rolls over onto his back and tries his best to glare, but eventually it dissolves into a smile, and he laughs himself. 

"Yeah, fine, whatever," he says. Danny leans down and kisses him.

"Dude, you are totally lost without me."

"Whatever."

"You know it’s true."

Jackson doesn’t reply, just pulls Danny down and kisses him again, and Danny thinks that maybe be does.


End file.
